


The Eleventh Hour

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Crush at First Sight, F/F, Flirting, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: A late-night visit to the local holiday crafts store leads to a felicitous encounter with dazzling new employee Grelle Sutcliff.
Relationships: Grell Sutcliff/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	The Eleventh Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Although labelled as femslash, I've tried to minimize use of gendered language when referring to Y/N and included alternative pronouns as needed for nonbinary readers.

A little bell tinkled as you flung the door open and hurried into the store, shivering from the icy wind you had just escaped.

You were no stranger to procrastination. Still, this was a new low even by your usual standards. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and you didn’t have a single gift ready. The time had just gotten away from you. You’d promised yourself to set aside an afternoon or two to make everyone’s presents (you favored the hands-on, artsy approach), but, well…that clearly never happened. Hence your desperate visit to the nearest holiday crafts store in a last-ditch attempt to save Christmas.

And you couldn’t focus. Couldn’t…couldn’t…

You glanced frantically from aisle to aisle, but your mind refused to decipher the jumble of letters and colors. The beginnings of a nasty headache throbbed at your temples. It felt like a python had wrapped its coils tightly around your chest, squeezing the life out of you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you were hit with a wave of nausea, another painful sign that the stress was taking its toll. Hot tears of frustration pricked at your eyes.

“What’s the matter, darling? You look like you’re about to pass out,” someone said.

You glanced up—and your jaw dropped.

Who _was_ this woman? You’d never seen her at the store before; there’s no way you could have forgotten someone this breathtakingly beautiful. A sensuous, expressive mouth, glossy, silken red hair that streamed down her back, statuesque legs encased in high-heeled black boots…oh _gods_.

And that figure! You tried not to let your gaze linger too long on her cleavage, though it was hard to resist temptation when her Santa dress was both form-fitting and daringly low-cut.

Her lips curled up in a knowing smirk, and she giggled.

“Cat got your tongue, love?”

You blushed furiously.

Great. Just great. Not only had this goddess spotted you on the verge of having a public breakdown, but she’d _also_ noticed you checking her out. This really was shaping up to be the worst Christmas ever.

“Um…there’s a ton of stuff I need for making Christmas gifts, but I waited til the last minute and…don’t really know where to start,” you stammered. The tears from earlier threatened to return with a vengeance.

 _Keep it together_ , you angrily told yourself. This woman—Grelle, according to her nametag—probably thought you were pathetic enough as it was.

To your surprise, however, her eyes softened in sympathy.

“Oh, been there, done that. It’s so much easier to put all that rubbish _off_ , isn’t it? But don’t you worry that pretty head of yours, poppet. We’ll get you sorted.”

She…she said you were pretty.

Your face burned, and you tried to ignore the butterflies that had congregated in your stomach.

Meanwhile, Grelle put her hands on her hips and flashed you a gleaming smile.

“I’m a new hire, but I know the place well enough. And it’s hard to say no to cuties like you.”

When she gave you a saucy wink, your poor heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.

_SHE THOUGHT YOU WERE CUTE?!_

Lost in dreamy rapture, it took you several seconds to process that she was beckoning you deeper into the store.

“Just tell me what you need, love, and we’ll see what we can find,” she trilled.

She led you from one section to another as you picked up glue here, a new set of paintbrushes there, and the other items required for those Christmas presents. While you carried your art supplies, Grelle chattered about her own plans for the holidays and juicy gossip concerning her fellow employees, green eyes sparkling, gesturing with those eloquent, graceful hands. She seemed to draw the surrounding light into herself, and _burn_ with it; even if you’d wanted to, you couldn’t have looked away. You laughed at her bawdy, wicked humor until your sides ached. Despite the prospect of a long, sleepless night ahead of you, your stress and fatigue simply evaporated when she smiled.

Suddenly, a handsome blond peeked around the corner.

“Hey, Grelle, aren’t ya supposed to be doing inventory?”

She huffed indignantly and shot him a withering look.

“I have more _urgent_ matters to attend to, _Ronald_ , if you couldn’t tell,” she retorted, motioning at you with her head.

He looked at you, raised his eyebrows, and tsked.

“During business hours? Really?”

“I’m sure I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” Grelle sniffed haughtily. “Poor Y/N here needed a little assistance, and I’m helping [her/them] out. I’ll get back to work on that ghastly, boring old inventory when I’m _ready_ , you understand?”

“Sure,” Ronald snickered. “Just don’t get too crazy. Mr. Spears is out sick, but if he found out you were trying to have date night on Christmas Eve—”

Grelle growled and took a menacing step forward. Ronald quickly backed away with his hands up in surrender.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” he laughed, ducking into the next aisle.

After he left, you stood there awkwardly and looked at the floor tiles, your craft supplies, the shelves…anywhere but at Grelle, whose cheeks were decidedly rosier than they’d been a few seconds prior.

“I hope I’m not getting you in trouble,” you stuttered.

Grelle quickly recovered her composure and grinned.

“Not to fret, darling. Ronnie’s just being an arse. He’s like an annoying little brother sometimes, I swear,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “Will—that’s our supervisor— _would_ get his knickers in a twist if he knew I wasn’t following his silly little schedule to the letter. ‘You need to stay on task, Sutcliff,’” she added, lowering her pitch and speaking in a cold, disapproving monotone that was doubtless an imitation of this Mr. Spears.

“But Will’s at home with the flu, and you know how the saying goes. While the cat’s away, the mice will play!” she drawled as her mouth curved in a naughty Cheshire grin.

Grelle sauntered closer. In heels, she was a few inches taller than you, and a wave of heat flooded your body when she smiled down at you.

“I can trust you not to tattle, can’t I?” she purred.

Those dark, full lashes fluttered, causing your befuddled mind to completely short-circuit. Words…uh…what were those? You only managed a quick nod, but that seemed to satisfy her.

“Now, is there anything else you need?” she asked.

“Um…I think that’s it, but thank you so, so much,” you gushed. “And I’m sorry again for taking up so much of your time…”

Grelle laughed, tossed her hair over one shoulder, and waved aside your concerns.

“I ought to be thanking _you_ , darling…I thought I was going to have a _dead_ dull Christmas Eve cooped up in here, and then a lovely [lady/person] walks in to keep me company!”

A golden glow permeated your chest, like a candle's flame.

“Well, I stop by here sometimes for crafting projects, so maybe I’ll see you around,” you said nonchalantly—or as nonchalantly as you could when you were practically levitating off the floor from sheer excitement at that prospect.

Grelle beamed.

“ _Splendide_! I’d best be going, but I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

She bent down, lips close to your ear, and whispered, “I work Mondays through Thursdays.”

Such a simple phrase, but her proximity sent a delighted thrill racing across your skin.

Then Grelle flounced off, while you gazed wistfully after her…but unexpectedly, she turned and waved.

“Oh, I almost forgot! It’s a few hours early, but Merry Christmas, _chaton_!”

“M-merry Christmas!” you squeaked, blushing to the tips of your ears.

As you made your way to the cash register, you felt like you were walking on air. Maybe there was a little magic to this season after all.

And maybe you’d find time to make an extra Christmas present for a certain pretty redhead.


End file.
